Time Travel for Frivolous Purposes
by Givena Friggs
Summary: A time traveler plays paparazzi to a certain elderly judge.


This is a weird one.

-O-o-O-o-O-

Friggi the time traveler ducked in and out of Paris's alleys. With her grey medieval dress and veil, she was practically invisible. "Let's make this quick and clean," she thought, peering around the corner of a shop.

Her brown eyes scanned over the scene before her until the target glided into view. The red veil on his triangular hat fluttered in the breeze. She observed, with more than a little delight, as the ribbon seemed to caress the aged, yet firm derriere of the Minister of Justice. Folds of black velvet rippled over the soft curve, which was no doubt kissed by the finest of linen. Friggi's salivary glands fired up at the thought that underneath all that fabric was Frollo's succulent posterior.

"Oh, to be a breeze up his skirt," she murmured to herself. She took note of the trio of guards escorting him down the street, sorry to tear her eyes from such a fine fundament. She surveyed the rest of the area. There weren't many people, which meant an easy clean up.

"Perfect." She pulled out a bag of silver dust.

Friggi flung the dust into the air. A villager raised his head at her sudden movement and started to shout, but froze mid-sentence. The dust spread through the air, freezing in time everyone and everything it touched. Friggi, who had taken an antidote beforehand, was unaffected.

She dashed over to the Minister of Justice, who was bending over to pick up his hat, which had been blown off by the wind. Saliva filled her mouth as she pulled out her camera and snapped a few shots of the lovely curve.

Judge Frollo's fingers twitched. Friggi tensed as he sprung up and spun around, a horrified look in his eyes.

"Witchcraft…" he whispered, his eyes widening in terror.

Friggi dodged back into the alley with Frollo on her tail. Clearly the dust didn't work on him.

"Get back here, fiend!" Frollo was catching up to her, but she was nearly to safety. She turned a corner and pressed a button on the wristwatch hidden under her sleeve. A black boxy vehicle materialized in front of her, just in time for Frollo to witness the whole thing.

Frollo paused to stare at the odd contraption, then smiled smugly. "How do you expect to escape now? Your carriage hasn't even got a horse."

Friggi paid no attention to him and vaulted over the side into the driver's seat. She flipped a few switches and pulled a metallic wand from under the passenger seat.

Frollo advanced and put his hand on the edge of the door. "Stop all that nonsense. Resisting arrest is a crime, you know."

Friggi's hand hung over a violet button next to a steering wheel. She couldn't leave until Frollo let go of the door.

Frollo tugged at the door handle in an effort to open the locked modern door. "Why won't this blasted door open? Have you hexed it as well?" He put his foot against the door for leverage and pulled as hard as he could, only to end up on the ground, on his beautiful ass.

This is my chance, Friggi thought. Before he could grab the handle again, she started the car, pressed the violet button and drove into the shimmering time portal. She made sure to use the silver wand to erase Frollo's memory shortly before she departed.

-O-o-O-

Soon Friggi was in the safety of her own garage, in her own time of 2014. She stashed her memory wand in a box under the seat. The wand would have only erased Frollo's memory of their chase, but that was all she needed.

She pulled out her camera and scrolled through the pictures she'd just taken with satisfaction; if they looked this good on the tiny screen, they'd look even better on her computer monitor. She was glad she'd shot them in RAW rather than JPEG.

She removed her veil and gloves. The garage light cast an amber glow on her brown skin and auburn hair. It also brought her attention to a black object stuck under the door's handle.

Friggi jumped back, grabbed a nearby broom, and sharply poked the object with the broom's handle. When she realized it wasn't some sort of inter-dimensional bat creature, she drew closer. With the end of the broomstick, she lifted it up and into the light where she could see that it was a weathered old turnshoe.

The events of five minutes (or was it centuries?) ago played like a video in her head. Frollo had jammed his foot under the handle in an attempt to pry open the door. He'd then fallen over (onto that wrinkled yet shapely rear of his), but she was already driving away by the time he stood again.

This very turnshoe had, moments earlier, embraced Claude Frollo's stockinged foot.

Slowly and delicately, Friggi plucked the shoe from the end of the broom. She turned it over in her hands until it was right side up. She gingerly pushed the shoe's tongue forward so she had a clear view of the interior. Then she brought the shoe to her nose and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of the old judge's foot.

"Frollo foot." She took another snort. "Now that's the good shit."

-O-o-O-o-O-


End file.
